Three Questions
by scrumptiousinternetllama
Summary: For HP Slash Luv! The enigma of this once one-dimensional man plagues Hermione in her sleep and in her wakeful hours.


**AN: For HP Slash Luv!**

 **Chapter Titles Challenge - #35 Three Questions**

 **Famous Wizards and Witches Cards Challenge: 1,867 words**

 **Warnings: Rated M for sexual scenes.**

Three Questions

He's sat in the corner of his miserable cell. The first thing she feels is disgust—the overwhelming urge to vomit… but a disconcerting feeling nags at the fringes of her mind: pity.

Hermione Granger never thought she'd feel pity for Lucius Malfoy, but right now, she does.

This man wanted her and her kind to be completely stamped out—or have their rights removed, at the very least. She's trying desperately to remind herself of this fact, but the thought that is dominating her mind is Sirius Black.

She remembers how his eyes would turn dark when he thought nobody was looking, and the drained, slight crazed look that appeared at the most unexpected of times. She remembers the tales of how he was quite the catch in Hogwarts, and of how he'd get up to mischief with the other Marauders.

Now, as she looks at Lucius Malfoy, she remembers a poised, stoic man—a man who looked perfect on the surface. She imagines that man being broken like Sirius was, and honestly, the thought is horrifying. She knows she should have no sympathy, but she can't help it.

Either way, she nods at the Auror, and he unlocks the cell, still looking slightly perplexed.

She's not surprised. She doesn't expect anyone to understand.

No matter what anyone thinks, she has to see this man. He's the only one left that she can get answers from.

As the cell is opened, Lucius barely seems to register it; it's as if his senses have been deprived, and Hermione realises that she doesn't know how she'll cope if he can't hear her.

So, after a moment of nauseating hesitation, she whispers out, "Lucius."

He doesn't flinch.

It must have been her dry throat. At least, that's her reasoning. So she swallows, and tries again.

No response.

"Ma'am."

Hermione almost jumps out of her own skin at the Auror's voice, but she quashes her fear the moment it rises up. She thought he had left.

"I don't think he's going to respond," he continues, and Hermione can't help but think he's right.

But she can't leave. He is the only one who can give her answers, so now where is she supposed to go?

Amidst her internal debate, Hermione knows that the Auror is right; she'll be wasting her time by staying.

So she turns around, and leaves the cell with a racing heart and watering eyes.

* * *

 _Why did you let them hurt me?_

 _It was your house._

 _Why did you support them?_

 _It's your fault._

 _Why have I been left with a scar I can't get rid of?_

 _I can't look._

* * *

Hermione wakes with sweat making her pyjamas stick to her form. Ron isn't beside her, and after a quick scan of the room, she sees that he is sleeping on the small sofa in their room. Has she been kicking in her sleep again?

Clutching her head, as if it will slow the questions spinning around it, Hermione grimaces at the digital clock next to her bed. It's a typical winter morning: dark and cold.

The darkness is the reason it feels wrong to get out of bed, despite it being half-past six already. She has to get ready for work.

Hermione slides out of bed with a groan, and stumbles over to Ronald's sleeping body. She pushes him a couple of times and whispers his name, hoping it will be enough to wake him up.

Then she grabs a towel and enters the bathroom, hoping a shower will clear her head.

Throughout the day, Hermione's mind can't help but wander to Lucius Malfoy, alone in his cell. She wants to forget but she can't force herself to; she knows it's a futile effort.

The three questions never leave… it's the reason why she lies to Ron.

* * *

As the Auror unlocks the cell for the second time, she wonders how Ron didn't hear the quiver in her voice when she told him she was working late. She almost wants someone to stop her.

This time, when she steps into the cell, she asks the Auror to leave.

When she's sure he's gone, she clears her throat. There's no reaction from Lucius.

"Lucius?" she says, hoping that this time, he will hear her.

When five seconds of silence pass, she tries again, this time, more forceful. "Lucius Malfoy."

He blinks, and turns his head towards her so slowly that Hermione wonders if the movement is painful. And then, in a voice croaky from disuse, he says, "Hermione Granger."

Her name sounds horribly familiar on his tongue, yet it lacks the disdain it used to hold. All she can garner from the two words is weariness.

Moments later, she realises that it's her turn to speak, and it hits her that she's never planned this far ahead. She knows the questions she wants to ask though.

"In your manor—when I was held captive, and your sister-in-law…" she trails off, the memory of her own screams causing a shiver to run down her spine. Or is it the presence of the Dementors?

She doesn't get to speak again, as Lucius croaks out, "I'm sorry."

Then the Auror is back and telling her she has to leave, yet again, with a racing heart and watering eyes.

The enigma of this once one-dimensional man plagues Hermione in her sleep and in her wakeful hours.

* * *

 _Why did you let them hurt me?_

 _"_ _I'm sorry."_

 _It was your house._

 _He said he's sorry._

* * *

She lies again and visits again; her mind barely registering the usually irritating sounds of Ron wolfing down his breakfast as she plans what she's going to say this time.

It turns out that she doesn't have to put much thought into it.

"Working late again? That's nothing new," says Ron with a light-hearted laugh and cuts off the Floo connection before she can respond. She wonders if she was only imagining the nervousness in his voice.

This time, when she visits, she gets straight to asking the question.

"Why did you support them?"

It takes him a long time to answer. For a terrifying moment, she thinks he's incapable of answering again. But, just in the nick of time, he says:

"I was wrong."

And again, before she can respond, the Auror is ushering her out of the cell.

* * *

The next morning, she decides that she won't visit Lucius again. It only confuses her, she reasons.

Just as she's closing the door, Ron calls, "Working late again?"

Hermione laughs as the door shuts, only registering his question after she's stood alone in the garden, but there's no point in going back to correct herself. It's not a huge deal.

* * *

Once work finishes, she hesitates in the Floo with a handful of powder in her hands. She already sees the person waiting to use the network after her getting impatient, so she shakes her head and heads straight home.

The third question will have to go unasked.

She lands in her own fireplace, only raising a small cloud of soot. She's perfected her landing after all these years. It's one of those little victories that she's strangely proud of.

Ron isn't here. A sigh escapes her lips and she frowns. Why is she relieved?

She shakes her head again and takes her bag off her shoulders, exiting the living room and sprinting up the stairs so she can put it away.

When she jogs through her open bedroom door, she sees a pale hand clenching the bedsheets and hears a breathy scream. Then it registers. A woman—her head thrust back in ecstasy, her back arched in bliss, astride Ron. One of his hands is clutching her hip and the other disappears to a place Hermione would rather not think about.

The she hears it: a husky, "Babe." It comes from the lips of none other than her husband and it's what wakes her up.

"You bastard!"

Ron's eyes snap open and he jerks up in surprise, eliciting a moan from the blonde above him, who registers what is happening a millisecond later.

"Hermione—"

He can't make a pathetic excuse as she's already brandishing her wand, a jet of green light shooting out of it as she Disapparates.

She's half-surprised when she finds her feet at the harbour. It's where she usually catches the little boat to Azkaban.

As a man with a heavily scarred face waits patiently for her to make up her mind, Hermione steps right into the boat, relieved to get away for a moment.

It's only when she's outside the same cell door that Hermione realises there are tears running down her face, but she can't bring herself to wipe them away as the Auror steps away, and out of sight.

There's no hesitation this time. "Why have I been left with a scar I can't get rid of?"

Lucius looks up in shock; it's the first time she's seen emotion in his face since her visits began.

She wonders if he realises she's not only talking about the scar on her arm. After what she's just seen, she's talking about the surely incurable scar on her heart.

When he doesn't reply, she asks again. "Why?"

Her voice is broken and she hates how pathetic she sounds. She hates it so much that she starts crying again. Yet, Lucius still doesn't answer.

Angry now, she pulls up her sleeve and shows him the disgraceful word carved into her arm.

Then he speaks, his voice is clearer than any other time she's seen him in this cell. "Who did this?"

And it's his question that truly stumps her. Because is it him, Voldemort, Ron or Bellatrix or any of the other people in her life?

She looks at him and sees that although he is cringing away from her arm, he is looking directly at her. His piercing, direct gaze makes her realise he's not asking about the obvious, (her arm); she knew that before.

No, he's asking about a hurt deeper than the physical scar, but when she digs deep, all she can feel is all the wounds in one ugly, painful ball, and she can't differentiate one hurt from another.

Then she drops to her knees and grips his shoulders, and she's still crying as one arm, then another, wrap around her.

All too soon, she feels the Auror return, and she only realises just how safe she feels in a convict's arms after she is removed from his embrace.

As she stumbles away from the cell, and as she is being rowed away from the gloomy island, Hermione looks with blurred vision at the area she knows Lucius to be.

She wants to feel safe again. Tomorrow, she will.

She's not going to stop visiting. She can't now that she's felt the remorse of Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

 _Why did you let them hurt me?_

 _I'm sorry._

 _It was your house._

 _He said he's sorry._

 _Why did you support them?_

 _I was wrong._

 _It's your fault._

 _I'm sorry; I was wrong._

 _Why have I been left with a scar I can't get rid of?_

 _I can't look._

 _I can't look either._

 _He makes it better._


End file.
